Older
by Belle of Books
Summary: He had grown older the past few years by decades. Tony's musing at the funeral in the season 8 finale.


_**Older **_

_A/N: Not sure how this came about. I saw the funeral scene in the finale again a couple of days ago and was struck by how much older they all looked. I just tried to address some little things that I found curious toward the end of the season. Don't own NCIS, etc. etc... You know the drill. _

How things had changed. That fact had been in the back of his mind for months but really hit at that moment. He had never felt as old as he did at that moment. Old. With the experiences of ten lifetimes. Of heartbreak and satisfaction and heartbreak. Of stress and worry and uncertainty. As he stood on the green grass lined with solemn white slabs of marble, his eyes pierced the sights in front of him, his ears filled with the mournful notes of bugles playing a last song. A last song for a dead man, and a tribute for services performed.

He stood; firm posture and firm mask, watching his boss present a little child with the flag of the republic. Someday, someone would receive a flag that had covered his dead body. It wouldn't be his child or his grandchild, or even his wife. No, not him. Not at this rate. His heart had been shattered and glued together too many times for someone of his age. He was old now. Too old to have a wife, to have a child, to a have a life other than the one he had. It was easiest, if he was being honest, to just have the life he had with the same position and the same duties.

Yet things had changed. The relationships, for one. Some had fallen apart and some had grown. He could see the people to his left; the most loyal, the most devoted, the most trustworthy people he had ever had the honor of knowing. People who he knew would always have his back. If he called years later, after years of separation, they would answer. Ducky and Abby and Tim. And to his right, Gibbs.

Every year he had a new funeral to attend. A new, freshly dug grave to stand beside. He stared forward, his mind not completely there, instead jumping around from each of the people that he had lost. Grief had not absented itself from his life. From his mother to Kate to Paula to Jenny to Danny and on.

And one day it would be him. The thought used to worry and almost scare him. But now, now? Now, he had been around death too much to be scared any more. He would face it head on. A blaze of glory. Because the more he thought about it, people who spent their lives running face on into danger couldn't go any other way. It wasn't his fault Jenny died. She had wanted it. And Franks had wanted the same. A final fight protecting the few left behind. The only way to go really. His first response was anger; anger that someone could just go the way that they did. He had once said that he wasn't afraid if he could see his foe. Getting old, failing, feeling your body give way is nothing he could face.

He looked over at Gibbs' face. He looked old too. Like the world would never stop casting it's blows down on him. He saw Gibbs kneel and give Franks' granddaughter his flag. He knew how Gibbs would go: the same way his mentor went and the same way his former partner went. And he'd probably go protecting him or Abby or McGee or Ziva. Tony would carry the casket and stare at the sky and later take a shot of hard liquor in honor of the man that had trained him and pushed him and demanded the best from him, knowing that he could give the best and be the best.

And that was why he wouldn't take Rota, wouldn't leave D.C. Someone had to watch over the sorry people he called his friends. He was on the A-team. He would be there 'till he died. In the background trudging along, through the stress and the worry, because no matter how hard it was, the knowledge that someone would always have his six was so much more worthwhile.

They were all older, when he thought about it. The past few years had multiplied on all of them. Decades instead of years. They'd all seen too much. He lifted his hand and placed it on his probie's shoulder. The confident man Tim had become. He squeezed his hand and saw McGee squeeze his lips in a tight smile and tighten his own arm around Abby. Tony moved his arm past McGee and touched Abby. She looked over at him and they didn't say a word. He could see the weariness in her eyes. Too much death. Too much pain.

He'd stay. Because it was easiest even though it was hardness. Because even though he knew the chances of losing another one was high, losing all of them would be worse. Because they needed him. Because he was part of this highly dysfunctional, incredibly misshapen group of individuals. Because the little bit of his broken, shattered heart and soul needed them.

He looked up at the sky, at the tiny bit of sun peeking through. He let his mask slip and a smile hinted at the corner of his lips. Because no matter of what tomorrow would bring, today he was alive. Today, they all were still alive. And the sun was peeking through.

_And the ending: because I was getting a little depressed. :) Thanks for reading. _


End file.
